Alfred's Letter to the World
by Kitskune Miyake
Summary: NOT A LETTER-FIC. Alfred F. Jones wrote a letter to a stranger on his tenth birthday. According to his plan, that letter will travel to places he's never seen, and it will bring back views from all types of people in all types of places. See inside.
1. The American Letter

Okay, so I have this new idea. I dedicate this to my classmates Minh-who showed me the song "Waving Flag," which partially inspired this fic- and James (a guy who has way too much influence on my life), both of whom will probably (hopefully) never read this. Those two probably lurk this site, but will never find me. If they do, I'm dead.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. This disclaimer is for the whole fic.

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><p>Dear whoever gets this,<p>

Hi! My name is Alfred F. Jones. I live at the address in the corner. It's really nice in New York City. Oh, and today, March 25, 2011, is my tenth birthday. Yippee for me!

Anyways, I'm writing this letter to you, Mr(s). Stranger, because I have a pen pal project at school. It got boring talking to kids who lived only two hours away, but I love talking to people I don't know, so I'm going to write to you because I want to.

Soooo, my life is good right now. I just had a birthday party, and it was AWESOME! All my friends came over, and we played Modern Warfare 2 for like three hours straight! How totally rad is that! And there's this one girl, Janine, who's really REALLY cute, but I don't know how to talk to her. I haven't told Mommy yet cuz she'd totally FREAK OUT if she knew I had a crush. Although, she's gonna find out eventually, cuz that's what all mommies do. They like to snoop and find stuff out.

Ummm...let's see...oh yeah, school. It's like sooooo horrible right now. I hate fifth grade! My teacher gives homework like EVERY DAY. And it's always the hard stuff, like math and science. Well, History's fun, so I don't mind.

At least I have my 100 classmates to talk to. I think I would DIE if I didn't have anyone to talk to. Well, actually, Janine doesn't talk to me at all, which kinda sucks. I mean, she's my Facebook friend and all, but STILL! She's like soooo pretty and popular and funny, but I don't think she even sees me. Maybe if I try out for soccer she'll finally see me and fall in love with me. Although I better ditch the glasses, cuz I look like a nerd. I think I'll ask Mommy if I can get contacts.

Oh, tomorrow, my best friend Keegan is coming over to play. For some reason, Daddy doesn't like him. He says that Keegan's dad is a (I don't know how to spell this so I'm gonna try) "cuniving basterd." Apparently, he doesnt' like Keegan's dad. I'll figure out why someday. When I asked Mommy what it meant, she got mad and took away my PSP and X-box. How totally unfair is that! I had nothing to do for like a week. I even explained to her that Daddy said that word, and she got all red in the face and stomped away from my room. I don't know what that was all about.

Well, my hand is cramping, and I'm tired of using a pen, so I'll just stop now.

Bye, Farewell, Ciao, Adios, etc.

Alfred F. Jones

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><p>The young boy smiled at the letter in his hand. It took three hours and two juice boxes, but he finally finished writing it. Opening up Google Maps, he found a random mailing address that he was absolutely positive was a private residence. He folded the letter at hand and stuck it in an envelope. He dug out his piggy bank and left it on his desk by the envelope. Tomorrow, when his best friend came over, the two of them would mail the letter themselves before going to Central Park. One day, he'd get a reply from the stranger. He just had to.<p>

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><p>Keegan came over the next day, as expected. The two sat up in Alfred's room, looking over the letter and prepping it for mailing it. The two decided to send their letter to Great Britain, which seemed foreign enough.<p>

As the two wrestled on the bed, Keegan suddenly kicked Alfred off of him. He hit the floor

"OOOWWWW! Dude, what was that for!" the pained boy cried.

"I just had the brilliantest idea EVER!" He grabbed Alfred by the shoulders. "Why don't we send this all around the world?"

"Dude, that's more change and stamps than we have put together," the blonde grumbled.

"Nah, the receivers can foot the bill. Here, lemme show you." The brown haired boy grabbed Alfred's MacBook and flipped it open. He glanced once at the open Safari page and frowned.

"Really, Al? What do you see in Janine anyways? Oooh, your her Facebook friend!" Alfred blushed furiously and opened up a blank word document.

"That's beside the point. Now do whatever you wanted to do." Turning back to the computer, the boy started typing.

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><p>To whoever gets this letter:<p>

In a way, you could call this a chain letter. And if it is, please don't let it stop. Right now, I am a ten-year-old fifth-grader, but one day, I'm going to be in the real world. I want you to read my letter, and any other letters in here, and write one of your own. If more people live with you, great! Have them write one too. One day, preferably before I go to college (which should be in seven years to this day), these letters can be mailed to me from wherever they end up. Tell me about yourselves. Write any advice you've got for me. I want to see the world from my home. I'm never going to be allowed to leave my house, so show me the world. PLEASE.

Write in whatever language you feel comfortable writing in, though I'd rather like it if you write in English. I still haven't learned any other languages yet, so please write in English.

Oh, and feel free to send other media, like CDs and photos. I'll get them eventually.

Yours sincerely,

Alfred F. Jones

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><p>The two scheming boys looked over the typed document. "This is gonna be so awesome," Alfred said.<p>

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><p>AN: Okay, so I've started, and before I get the comments, I would like to say a few things.<p>

(1) THIS IS A WIDESPREAD HUMAN AU. The likelihood any of them will have met each other will be low, but you'll just have to wait and see.

(2) ALL AGES ARE DETERMINED BY YOURS TRULY. I'm aging them as I want, so all your favorite couples will most likely be decimated. The ones you don't like, however...

(3) NO HOLDS BARRED. I'm tackling all sorts of stuff in this fic. I plan on glimpsing in on the lives of drunkards, heirs, and all sorts of people. That's where I'll need your help. If you guys could give me tips and pointers on living in places or under certain conditions, that would be nice. For starters, can anyone explain to me why you would go to a bar and drown your sorrows? You don't have to speak from experience, but it would be nice to be realistic.

(4) I KNOW THIS WOULDN'T WORK IN REAL LIFE. In real life, you'd need the name of the receiver before the letter gets processed. In my headcanon, the letter is being blindly sent, and it gets processed to the address they wish to send the letter to. Also, the likelihood that suspicious people would find poor Alfred is high, but it is nonexistent in my fic.

(5) THIS IS NOT A LETTER-SENDING FIC. God, I hate those.

(6) PLEASE LEAVE TIPS, CC, AND MEANINGFUL PRAISE. If I see "lol continue soon"...I just don't want to see that. And tear this thing apart. I need all the help I can get.


	2. The United Kingdom Letters Part One

I really hate writing accents. Reading them is a bitch as well. Just imagine the accents if you so desire. Lisps and slurs, however...well, they're a different matter to me. Baby talk is too much fun to write.

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><p>It took a week, but the letter made it to it's first stop. Admittedly, the residents of this house had nearly thrown it away, but the incredibly nosy neighbor Sean O'Kelly insisted on opening it. Most of the family viewed him as an unwanted brother in this family of five, save for James Kirkland. He was the only Kirkland who actually liked Sean.<p>

As expected, it was Sean's idea to write those letters. He was waving the letter around one morning after dropping by (uninvited, but that's beside the point) for breakfast. He had fished the letter out of yesterday's mail, which would have been an illegal act if any of them cared. Malcom, the oldest sibling, was cooking breakfast(?) while Reese and James argued over who would do the dishes. Peter ran by his hip, caterwauling"Wah! Don't wet Awthuw get to me!" He ducked behind Malcom as Arthur, the second oldest, stumbled in looking hungover. Malcom shot him a look before taking the letter out of Sean's hand. He took one look at Alfred's letter and put it away.

"Bah," he said. "Why should we bother with this idiot? I tell you," he said, waving his cooking spoon warningly, "he's asking for trouble."

"Whatever, old man. You're no fun anyways," Sean said dismissively.

"I ought to beat the crap out of your sorry ass," Malcom said, squinting menacingly at the "other brother."

"I don't care. You wouldn't bother wasting energy on us anyways, old-timer." Sean shrugged. "C'mon James." The second-youngest Kirkland stood up and walked away with his friend. "_We're_ gonna write a letter like _real_ cultured people."

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><p>Dear Kid,<p>

Howdy-do partner, or whatever you say in America. First off, it's "conniving bastard." That's the adult way of saying "a big jerk." Don't use those words. Secondly, girls-especially older girls- love glasses ;). Some sort of sensitive, smart sex appeal to them.

Wait, I never introduced myself. I'm Sean (with my friend James nearby), and we're gonna write you a couple of letters.

James lives with a bunch of brothers. I'm not even joking, he's got like a million of them. Well, actually there's only four brothers, then him, then ME. I might as well be family, what with how close I am. Anyways, I wouldn't be surprised if yet another Kirkland waltzes in any day now. I swear, his mother is quite the _femme fatale._ She had each of them in some area of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland or another and raised them so they would each have some accent. It's crazy! It's weird that a Scotsman (Malcom), two Londoners (Arthur and Peter), a Welshman (Reese), and an Irishman (James) can all be related AND live together-in Liverpool nonetheless! Between the regional accents and constant yelling, it's a wonder we all don't have chronic headaches.

As for me, I live with them basically. You see, they don't know this, but my mom died a couple years back. My dad wasn't really ever in the right condition to raise me. I kinda just float around. Thank God I'm 19. I don't have to go to school anymore, and I can get a job. It sucks though because I really don't have anywhere to go. Not even James knows. They're really nice people, and I kinda feel bad about the mooching, but I have to survive somehow. It taught me that people really aren't that bad.

I used to be the ultimate loner. It wasn't my fault! I had a super-traumatizing event in preschool. Stupid Brian Moore was a jerk. Fucking pushed me out window. I thought everyone was just as bad. I had maybe talked to three people outside of my family over the course of ten years, and they were short conversations made out of necessity (where the bathroom was).

Then, I moved to Liverpool. Here I met James, my first true friend. It took a lot of courage for me to approach him. He was one of those popular kids that were out of my league at the time. At the time, I thought popular kids were trouble, and they normally are. They're normally a bunch of dipshits. Not James. He's not very normal at all. He's a great guy. Hanging out with him really opened me up, and now I won't shut up.

By the way, great idea about the whole sending an anonymous letter thing. That's pretty brave, considering I now have your address and can stalk you. I might even be able to find you on Facebook. Eh, but that's too much work, so I'll just keep writing. The one thing I've learned in life is to take risks. Life's not worth it otherwise. True, there are limits, but you have to break some. Sometimes, it's making a new friend; other times, it's dealing with the girl you like. Go ask her out or something. Take initiative! Girls like a little initiative, especially in the bedroom. Wait, you're too young for that now, so forget I said that.

Anyways, I better quit holding up the computer. James seemed pretty eager to write a letter for some reason. Fucking child predator (just kidding!).

Sean O'Kelly

_(signature above print)_

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><p>To Alfred,<p>

My name's James. I'm nineteen years old, and I was born in Northern Ireland, a division of the United Kingdom of blah-blah-blah. The name's too long. Oh, and it's not England. I really hate when foreigners mess that up. You don't hear us going around screwing up the name of YOUR country, do you? Haha, never mind.

Anyways, you said to give you advice. First off, girls like glasses if you get a sexy pair. No plain old Potter-esque glasses will do. Get a nice, sexy pair, and the girls will love you. Secondly, don't use the words your dad said.

Well, the only decent advice life has taught me is to place your trust in few people. However cynical that may sound, I mean it. Trust a few, but trust them wholly. That's all I can really think of. Once, I was ten years old just like you. I even had a crush on this girl. I told a good friend of mine, and he went and told everyone that would make fun of me. Dipshit. Oh, don't use that word either. Luckily, the next year came along and I met Sean. Really, he's probably the best friend ever. Once, these guys were making fun of me, and he called upon all my brothers to go beat the crap out of him. Even Malcom, and he's like 30.

Speaking of family, don't listen to what your dad says about Keegan. If he doesn't act like his dad, then it doesn't matter what your dad thinks of his dad. Yep, be careful about labeling. Just saying.

Anyways, just make good friends in life. Kids these days befriend the wrong influences, and before they know it, they're starving drug addicts trying to make it through life on the spare change they stole from their "clients'" pockets. Oh wait, you're too young right now to get the joke.

A good friend is going to be there for you whenever. You won't believe the stuff they'll do for you. Sean literally pulled me out of a pit after I swerved the family car. (I didn't do it on purpose! There were sheep in the middle of the road.) Then he helped me pay for the damages. Course, he teases me about the incident, but it's a playful thing.

Another thing: trust your family. They'll be there for you whether you like it or not. My own brother Arthur...well, he's not exactly the most reliable character. Yet here we are, supporting his expenditures. Aside from his bar tabs; he has to pay for those himself. But we still drive him home when he's drunk his ass off. Pop him a couple of aspirins, and that usually takes the worst of the hangovers. Mind you, that isn't enough, but it isn't your problem right now.

Well, that's all I can think of. Thanks for listening to the God-awfully boring story of my life. And Sean's boring life. Thanks for listening to that as well.

Sincerely,

James Kirkland

_(Signature above print)_

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><p>The two boys printed out their letters, neither showing their letter to the other, and slipped it into the envelope. Without looking back, they walked away from the envelope, open for more letters from the Kirkland family that may or may not come.<p>

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><p>AN: Okay, I'm not so happy with this chapter, mostly because it's all OC writing and I didn't get the other parts in that I wanted. But school starts in two days for me, and I really wanted to get some stuff out there. I hope to bring the rest of this chapter soon, so please stick around!<p>

Yes, I still need help. Unfortunately, I can't put as many current events as I want (such as the riots in London), but I'll gladly take suggestions for "predicted current events", if that makes any sense. Basically, what may happen. For example, I can totally foresee a WWIII, what with the tension and Korea and that stuff. Anyways, please leave tips (THAT MEANS REVIEW).


	3. The United Kingdom Letters Part Two

Reese Kirkland was the type of person that you trusted...sort of. Unbeknownst to many, he would only appear to take your warnings into consideration before sneakily doing something you didn't want him to do. For example, Malcom didn't want any of them to write a letter. Sean and James outright ignored him, but Reese was sneaky. He waited until everyone was asleep before pulling out his own laptop and writing a letter.

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><p>To: This kid<p>

From: Reese Kirkland.

My brother and his brother-like friend have probably already explained the meanings of the words you struggled with. Don't use them until you're older.

Anyways, advice: stick to your family. Yes, parents are overbearing at your age, but when you're a legal adult, you're gonna keep going back to them. My brother (let's call him "Arty") went through some hard times. His girlfriend for 4 years and fiance for 3 months dumped him flat on his ass. It was pretty cruel, and he was devastated. He's been drowning his sorrows in a bottle of rum for the past two years. He hasn't held a job for more than a week; it's driving my brother mad. Heck, it's driving all of us mad. But we can't exactly kick him out. Arty is a good person. He's just...having difficulty getting back up. As a family, it's our job to hold him up.

I probably don't sound like the seventeen-year-old I am. I'm okay with that. People say I sound really mature for my age, which is good, I guess.

Anyways, family is good for you, regardless of your life decisions. Whether you come out, are trying to do rehab, or just need a place to crash, they always seem to have something. Just remember to get back on your feet. You can't exactly mooch forever, even if you're the Queen of England. God fucking bless her! (I'm not too fond of the royal family. They get paid for sitting on their asses and being born with the right blood. It's outrageous, and it drives up the taxes. But that's just me)

Anyways, they don't know I'm writing this. I think Sean is waking up, so I'm gonna print this (it goes to a different room to print) and put it in. Wait, why am I writing this?

Bye!

(Signature)

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><p>Reese's fears were unfounded. Sean and James were both conked out on the massive guest bed. Their limbs were tangled, and James was clinging to Sean's shoulder. He rolled his eyes.<em> If I didn't know any better, I'd swear they're gay<em> he thought to himself. He tucked the letter into the envelope, which was getting quite fat now.

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><p>To this damned kid,<p>

Yes I am druunk rigt now. then again, I'm always dfrunk. All I gotao say is: get a griop on realtiy. IF it's tgoo good to be true, then it probaly is. If noiwone makes a move ina relationship, then it idnt ever gonna go anywhere. jsut get obver it now.

alcohiol is a sutipd way to get over life's sucvkhy moments. But, its the most coneveintnat. Don't get on it, or yeou an't getting off theis roller coaster. terustr me, I knwo so. ive bheen triying to quit for the pastr two yers. niot fun. at all.

(Very scribbly signature)

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><p>Arthur printed the letter and tried to force his note into the envelope, only to find the contents too fat to fit.<p>

"Fuck," he slurred. "Fuck it all." He dug through one of the cabinets (he had gotten adept at functioning while drunk) and found a big manila envelope. He forced all the letters inside.

"Awthuw?" Peter called out. "Awty, are you there?" The drunk Briton turned to face his youngest brother. True, the five of them were all half-brothers, but he felt closest to Peter. The two had been born in the same city.

"Whaddya want?" he said, trying to keep his voice emotionless. "'S late." He noticed (what an accomplishment!) that the boy was holding one of many of his ripoff Beatles tracks. "Tha's mine, y'know."

"S'not real," Peter said knowingly. "'Merican boy can have it."

Arthur took the CD from him. "_All You Need Is Love_?" He hadn't seen or listened to this song in a while, probably two years or something like that. The boy nodded. Arthur couldn't help but smile crazily at his little brother. This little tyke had unknowingly given him his favorite song, the one he had lost. He started to sing, picking up in the chorus. "All you need is love/All you need is love, love/ Love is all you need!"

It was crazy, but this strange high had washed over him, one even better than anything alcohol or drugs (his brothers didn't know about the drugs) he had tried. He picked up his brother and started spinning him around. Peter shrieked in surprise and glee. Arthur even started laughing. It wasn't degrading or sarcastic; it was pure, inane joy.

Unfortunately, it woke the other brothers up. "What the hell is goin' on?" Malcom growled, leaving the comfort of his room. The (not by blood) twins came from the guest room that they shared, regardless of both having their own separate rooms. Reese popped in, trying to fake exhaustion; luckily, everyone else was too sleepy to notice.

Arthur didn't bother being surly again. "Sing with me! There's nothing you can do that can't be done/ Nothing you can sing that can't be sung!"

"You've never been a happy drunk," Malcom said, his voice thick with sleep, "so you can't be drunk. What's gotten into you?"

"Love!" Peter said before anyone else could intervene.

"Fucking brilliant observation!" Arthur said, putting his brother down. "This brilliant brother of mine has made the observation that the world needs love!"

"Go to sleep, you bloody noisy bastard!" Sean finally snapped. "I don't want to hear any more of your revitalization shit; it's too early-slash-late to say such crap. Why don't you go to bed and we can figure out this out tomorrow when we all aren't cry-our-eyes-out exhausted!" He stormed off, James right on his heels. The rest of the brothers soon disappeared into their respective rooms, falling asleep as soon as they hit the pillows. Arthur, his head clear for the first time in a while, tucked the CD and letter into the manila envelope. He hefted his brother up and took him to his bedroom.

"Tired?" The little boy nodded. "Me too. You stay with me tonight." The little blond smiled ecstatically. It had been forever since Arthur had shown such affection. It filled his little heart with such joy. The two fell asleep holding each other like a young boy clutching his teddy bear.

The next day, the whole clan went to the post office. Earlier in the day (read: at noon), they looked up some French businessman's office. They wrote his address into the mailing address. All the letters had been transferred into a manila folder. They sent it off, wondering how the letter would fare when it arrived in the City of Lights.

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><p>Holy crap, where the hell did this go? Anywhere starting after Arthur's letter was written after leaving this alone for a few months. Then it just started going downhill...I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't abandon writing for long stretches of time. Anyways, your input would be nice, as well as what you want to see.<p> 


End file.
